The Fates Collide
by LadyMithrellas
Summary: Leona can finally meet the boy who grew into an alarmingly handsome man, and an awfully devilish womanizer when the knights return to Hadrian's Wall. Her childhood dream is shattered when fate takes a turn none of the Knights could have predicted.


Well hello there. If you have made it thus far I congratulate you and thank you! It has been quite a few years since I have attempted a fanfic, and I am feeling decent about this one. Not quite sure where it's headed, but with a little reader participation, who knows where this puppy will lead. I ask that you kindly leave some sort of review, as it is courteous. Tell me what you like, what you don't like, any questions, etc.

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Rolling waves of green grew from the very point beneath her bare feet; the lush, thick grass soothed her aching toes, sore from running about. Today was certain to be different from any other day, as it was her thirteenth birthday. She had also completed the pendant that she had been carving for months.

"What ever are you going to do with that silly thing, Leona?"

The young brunette tore her gaze from the paradise of green before her and glanced at the neatly shaped wood in her hand. Her browns furrowed as she spoke softly, almost inwardly.

"I'm not certain, Anthea." A smile caressed her lips. "No matter, I shall find good use for it someday, when I am an old maid."

Her shorter, much blonder companion giggled her smile pure, innocent. "You can't honestly believe that! You will take a husband soon, will you not?"

Leona's eyes shifted up and over the never-ending sea of green, her smile still snug in place. "There aren't any here that I fancy, but I am certain I shall find one. One day."

A certain dark eyed, dark haired boy flitted through her mind. '_If only he knew_." His dark eyes and curls made him a target by many of the young girls in the village. There was no possible way he had ever noticed her in the way she noticed him. Aside from her blatant timidity, she was a little different than most of the girls her age. Her hair remained pulled back in one long French braid, opposite many girls' braided tails and long unruly hair. She had many chores to complete, what with her father off fighting for the Romans and her mother long since past. She was the eldest, therefore she was to look after her younger siblings.

Her mother passed shortly after her father left, leaving her in charge at a young age. She had to grow up fast. Most of the village members supported her in every way possible, and she eventually came to live under Anthea's family for a short time. Her younger siblings had been shipped off to an aunt some miles west, but she chose to stay. Anthea's father had become a sort of father figure for the near orphan, and taught her many things, including sparring, horsemanship, and whittling, which had become her favorite. He had also carved her first wooden staff, her weapon of choice, after which she fashioned many of her succeeding staves.

"Leona!"

Torn from her reverie once again, her head snapped up to meet the eyes of a frightened Anthea. But Anthea's eyes were not on Leona's, but focused somewhere far off behind her. She wheeled around to spot the one thing she had dreaded most.

"Girls, come quickly!" Anthea's mother called from the trough of the hill below them. Leona followed dutifully, despairing what was to come. Not today. Any day but today. It was her birthday, for crying out loud. Today, she was going to let down her hair, she was going to look beautiful. All for him.

And he was being snatched from her very grasp.

Leona trailed Anthea and her mother into their tent, never uttering a word. Anthea sobbed quietly into her mother's arms, her mother patting her reassuringly on the back and shushing her gently. It had been years since Leona had done the same. She longed for that feeling of comfort only her own mother had once shown her, years ago when her father departed. She buried the feeling of vulnerability that rose in her as she looked on hopelessly, awkwardly.

Soon, however, Anthea's mother rose gracefully and stepped outside to say farewell to her son, leaving Anthea inside, sniffling childishly. A wave of loneliness and hurt swelled within her... Any yet, a twinge of hope rode that wave.

She sprung at the idea that suddenly dashed into her mind. "Anthea, I need you to do something for me," Leona murmured, a new light in her eye. Anthea peered up at Leona, tears slowing.

Leona's spirits were soaring and still plummeting before she realized what was happening; her heart beat quickened. In her hand she clutched the tiger pendant. Pressing it to her lips momentarily, she thought a prayer. '_Keep him safe. Protect him. And please, for the love of anything and everything that is, was, and will be, please let us meet again._'

"Give this to him, please!" Leona's voice rose rapidly. "Before it is too late!"

Anthea's bewildered face gave Leona little hope, but still, she helped the whimpering blonde off of the ground and shoved her out of the tent entrance. "Give it to him!" She whispered loudly, one last time. As she peeked out, she found the same dark orbs that she so loved peering into her own. Gasping, she hid once more behind the safety of the tent, avoiding his curious gaze.

She heard Anthea call her beloved brother's name. "Lancelot!" She cried. "Lancelot!"

Leona exhaled, relieved in knowing that her gift had found its destination. His voice cut clear through the gloomy air, and she finally let a tear fall. "Don't be afraid, I will return."

It was only a matter of moments before the village people erupted into the ancient battlecry of the great Sarmation Knights. The cries of every villager filled her ears, her very soul, but she hadn't the heart to join.

"Rus," she whispered, closing her eyes in silent defeat.

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Thank you once again and enjoy!


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